Walter Skinner, standing at his big office window, let out an almost audible sigh of frustration. Raining, again. And at lunchtime, again. This had been going on all week now, and the AD was about sick of ordering and eating in his office alone. He knew who he'd rather be eating, that was, eating with, he corrected himself grimly. Get hold of yourself, Skinner.
Not that he was afraid to go out in the rain, he was just sick of looking at it. Well, he would have to break down and eat in the cafeteria downstairs, something he tried his best to avoid under normal circumstances.
He was alone in the elevator on the way down to the first floor, and he was sorely tempted to go to the basement instead. He could almost picture himself knocking on the door of Fox Mulder's basement office, and asking Agent Scully to do lunch. Or do him. Or join him for lunch. Or join him for anything. Maybe in bed, his brain tickled his already-aching lust for the redhead.
Forget that - he got off on the first floor and went to the cafeteria.
The big room was pretty crowded, mostly with agents who abhorred the rain as he did. It always reminded him of the jungles, somehow, and that was a time best forgotten.
His heart skipped a beat when his dark gaze fell on his two most exasperating agents, siting at a table for four, apparently engrossed in a lively discussion, argument maybe, about some ungodly subject, no doubt.
Skinner had to tear his eyes away from Dana Scully forcefully. He had come down here because he was hungry - but now he was ravenous. The empty sensation in his stomach abruptly transformed into an empty ache in his groin. And he'd been doing so well today, too.
He got in line and plopped some hot roast beef and potatoes on his tray, with a side salad and some carrots. He didn't even want to eat now - his stomach was not the organ that needed satiating.
He had just turned away from the line to look for an empty seat, and he almost walked right into Agent Mulder, who was apparently in the process of taking his dessert back to his table. Skinner eyed the soft-serve ice cream, with the whipped cream and the single cherry centered perfectly. The whipped cream made him hungry again, for something to lick the stuff from, and the dish as a whole reminded him of a breast - more specifically a firm, rosy-tipped breast, hopefully with Skinner's hand or mouth on it. Hopefully Dana Scully's. His heart skittered erratically at the thought, and he brought himself under strict control.
"Eating with the lowly agents today, Sir?" Mulder asked brightly.
"A man has to have sustenance, Agent Mulder," he grumbled in reply, casting his glance around again in search of an empty seat.
"There's room at our table," Mulder pointed out needlessly. "Join us! I'm sure Agent Scully won't mind."
Mulder turned without waiting for an answer, and without looking back to see if the boss was following him, which of course, Mulder knew he was.
He snickered inwardly. This would be amusing, Mulder thought.
Skinner had fallen into step behind him fatalistically. There was nothing else to do; he'd just have to get through it as well as he could, and then he'd probably have to go into his bathroom in his office and pound his cock into his own hand just so he could get through the rest of the day. Something he had already done numerous times with Dana Scully's body in his mind.
Agent Scully, for her own part omitting dessert from this meal, looked upon the approaching duo with trepidation. She tried mightily to keep the breath-stealing image of a naked, well-toned Assistant Director out of her head. It was difficult enough under normal circumstances; in this informal setting, it would be impossible. He wasn't even seated at the table yet, and she could feel herself getting hot and wet.
She pretended to be picking through the remains of her chef salad as the two men seated themselves, surreptitiously keeping a hungry eye on the bulge at Skinner's crotch. You're base and disgusting, she told herself, wondering vaguely what Fox Mulder was smiling about.
Mulder, actually, was enjoying this little midday episode. The sexual tension at this table was exhilarating to him. He saw how his boss worked diligently at eating, while making small talk and trying to keep his eyes from wandering constantly to Scully's chest. And he had definitely caught his partner's sidelong glance at the AD's torso as he sat down.
The small talk was dwindling down, and Mulder was annoyed with waiting for something to happen.
"So," he asked, "We all satisfied? Nobody hungry anymore?"
Scully shot him the look of death. "I was just about to go back to work," she told him, reaching to gather her dish, glass and silverware to take to the disposal area. Skinner reached out to gather them up with his at the same time, and their hands collided. They both yanked them away quickly, much to Mulder's amusement.
"Scully," Mulder suggested, rising from his seat. "Why don't you keep the Assistant Director company while he eats his dessert?"
With that, he walked away and left them alone at the table.
Scully met Skinner's gaze directly, something she hadn't been able to do for quite some time. Her blue eyes were challenging him, and melting his insides. They were affecting something else, too, but it wasn't melting, quite the opposite.
Scully was totally surprised to see the darkness of hunger in his eyes, swallowing her own gaze as if Skinner was eating her alive right at that moment.
"Are you having any, Sir?" she asked softly.
His brave, ex-Marine heart stopped abruptly, and he almost choked on nothing.
"Am I having any?" he repeated.
"Dessert," she prompted him, still keeping her gaze on his, almost like offering her own sight as a sacrifice to the desire she sensed in him.
"No," he replied. "No dessert. I usually only have dessert if I eat dinner out. I don't do it very often."
The image of the AD 'doing it' came screaming into Scully's brain. Like she would, if he so much as touched her. She licked her upper lip nervously at the thought, and his eyes abandoned hers to dive right to her mouth, the image of her tongue on certain body parts suffusing him with molten hunger. Mostly the image of her tongue on the tip of his cock.
"You should do it often," she told him quietly, moving to pick up her tray and leave her seat.
Suddenly, Skinner had a flash of insight that told him Scully was definitely not referring to going out to dinner and eating dessert. Eating something else, maybe. Someone else, hopefully.
"Yes,. I should," he agreed, gathering his own lunch things together. "Would you like to do it with me?"
Scully all but dropped the tray, invaded as she was with the roiling, stomach-turning desire his words instilled in her. But he was playing word games, she realized.
She calmed herself in a flash, once more meeting his gaze head-on."I would love to do it with you, Sir," she replied.
"Okay then," he said, thinking. "How about that little Italian place about three blocks from here? Maybe 7:30? Shall I meet you, or pick you up?"
"Pick me up. You're on!" she accepted.
On top, he hoped.
Scully turned and walked away, shaking inwardly, outward calm belying the turmoil inside.
Walter Skinner watched her hungrily.Tonight, he might finally feed that hunger.
End Part 4